Photograph courtesy of The Honeysuckle Life

 

Chez Lulu: Tasty French food in the English Village

1909 Cahaba Rd. Birmingham, AL 35223

Named after the French euphemism for “brothel,” Chez Lulu is nestled in the English Village of Mountain Brook, Alabama. Across the street is an art gallery, and next door you can find Continental Bakery, which is also owned and operated by Carole Griffin, the proprietor of Chez Lulu. “Chez Lulu was born of my desire to showcase the beautiful artisan breads we were creating next door, and to share with Birmingham my own passion for the flavors and spirit of French cafe society,” says Miller. Miller does just that with her charming restaurant and bakery. Chez Lulu is perfect for a date night or dinner with friends. Expect to enjoy Chez Lulu for at least an hour; the warm atmosphere, friendly staff, and delectable food will hold you in thrall.

 

My friends Vanessa, Hannah, and I visited Chez Lulu on a warm Saturday afternoon. After perusing the Birmingham area for an authentic French eatery, the three of us were taken with the menu of Chez Lulu, which offered a delectable variety of fresh tartes, handmade pizzas, and Mediterranean-inspired salads.

The charm of Chez Lulu is palpable even from the street. The outside seating area is shaded by an awning draped with multi-colored string lights and the tables all bore brightly-burning tea lights. Upon entering the restaurant, we were welcomed by a symphony of scents; there was buttery, piquant, warm, alluring, inviting. A soft-spoken host led us down a narrow hallway and seated us at an iron table in a cozy corner of the restaurant. Around us, the walls were saffron colored and covered in works of art framed in eclectic materials, as well as antique, tarnished light fixtures. To my left was a mural of a French country home situated next to a bright field of lavender, and above Vanessa and Hannah, who were seated on a broad bench padded with crushed velvet pillows, hung an Impressionist portrait of an austere looking man. The couples around us were eating from plates of fruit and pastries and sipping from quaint glasses filled with chilled wines and tangy cocktails.

Our waiter greeted us promptly and filled our glasses with ice-cold water from an old-fashioned, hammered-metal pitcher. He presented us with our menus, and I noticed that each of them had a different cover: mine was a print of a Toulouse-Lautrec piece, while Vanessa’s seemed to be the cover of a French fashion magazine from the late 80’s. Before leaving us to our menus, our waiter eagerly listed the day’s specials, which included a tomato-goat cheese tarte and lentil soup.

We began our meal by ordering a round of appetizers. The first, chosen by Vanessa, was a warm mixture of crushed San Marzano tomatoes, goat cheese, and pesto to be spread on toasted slices of baguette. My order was the so-called “Mediterranean sampler,” a dish of olive tapenade, roasted red pepper spread, and fresh Feta cheese. Before our appetizers arrived, we were offered a steady supply of warm French bread with olive oil and cracked black pepper for dipping.

Looking over the menu, the selection of fresh pizzas caught my eye. One in particular, the Catalan, bore the some of the staples of the Provencal kitchen, including olive oil, fresh tomatoes, and caramelized onions. It reminded me of the Provencal dish pissaladière, so Hannah and I decided to split a 12-inch pizza, while Vanessa decided on the tomato tarte and lentil soup, promising to save me a bite (or two). We also looked over the dessert menu and decided (before we had even chosen our entrees) which desserts we wanted to feast on at the conclusion of our meal.

Our appetizers arrived on endearingly mismatched plates, Vanessa’s a teacup of vibrant tomato sauce garnished with mounds of goat cheese and emerald pesto, and mine an array of Mediterranean spreads served on a bed of arugula, tomatoes, and pink pickled onions and accompanied by flatbread toasts. The plate, as you can see, was busy, but exciting, and I couldn’t wait to have a taste.

We dug in as soon as our waiter retreated to the kitchen. My first choice was the tapenade, and, as expected, it was a wonderfully salty, briny, tangy mix of olives and capers perfumed with lemon. The feta was creamy, smooth, and zesty, the perfect accompaniment to the spicy roasted red pepper spread. The pickled onions were bright and flavorful, not at all harsh like I expected them to be. The spread was, to me, very Provencal and I was already a very happy diner. Vanessa’s appetizer, while obviously more Italian-inspired, was delicious as well. It was warm and rich, and the unmistakable savory flavor of pesto saturated the sauce while the tang of goat cheese cut its richness.

We continued to eat away, laughing and gossiping as we always do whenever we get together. The wait staff was attentive and alert, always eager to refill our glasses or spirit away any cleared plates or present us with another basket of warm bread. Vanessa’s lentil soup arrived as we ate away at our appetizers. Although I had only one spoonful, I thought the lentil soup was flavorful, but, admittedly, the texture of the lentils was not my favorite.

Our entrees arrived soon after our waiter cleared our appetizer plates. My and Hannah’s pizza was served on a metal supported by a large tin can, while Vanessa’s tarte was served on a floral-patterned plate and garnished with a relish of fresh tomatoes and basil. Our pizza looked tasty, but upon taking a slice, I found that there were some issues with structural integrity. The crust was very thin and unable to support the heavy and very greasy topping.

My concerns regarding the stability of the pizza were dispelled as soon as I took a bite of it. Although it was certainly greasy and heavy, it was also bright, tangy, sweet, a bit spicy, savory, and crisp. The golden sweetness of the caramelized onions cut the acidity of the fresh tomatoes, while briny capers and salty Manchego cheese tied all the flavors together in a lip-smackingly scrumptious way. I ate three pieces, Hannah had two, and there were still three pieces left to be graciously boxed up by our waiter.

Vanessa described her tomato tarte as fresh, buttery, and savory. I had a couple of bites and found that the crust, which is handmade in-house, was more delicious than the filling itself. It was crunchy and flaky, salty and buttery. I longed to try one of the tarte’s other variations.

Once we had finished feasting on our entrees, we eagerly ordered our desserts. I asked for a slice of the (not French at all) carrot cake, while Vanessa and Hannah ordered the more traditional pot-de-crème. They arrived shortly thereafter and the three of us were in awe.

My carrot cake was a deep golden brown color and was speckled with walnuts. It was coated in thick, creamy cream-cheese frosting and garnished with slices of fresh strawberries. The pot-de-crème was served in teacups and was garnished with tufts of homemade whipped cream and strawberries. If the presentations of our desserts were any indication of their flavor, we were certainly in for a treat.

The carrot cake was spiced with what I think was cinnamon and nutmeg, and its warmth was accentuated by the richness and tang of the cream cheese frosting. It was certainly rich and I couldn’t finish it all, but as I sit here writing, I’m wishing I had another slice.

Vanessa and Hannah described their pot-de-crèmes as heavy, rich, and dark. From the spoonful I had, I tasted hints of espresso as well as the earthiness of dark chocolate. As I said before, it was incredibly heavy and decadent, and one spoonful was enough to assuage my hunger for chocolate.

As our waiter tallied up our checks and our meal drew to a close, Hannah, Vanessa, and I remarked at how nice our experience at Chez Lulu was. For Hannah and me, it was our first time experiencing a three-course meal, and for Vanessa, it was the first time she’d tired authentic (more or less) French food. We talked at length about how excited we were to revisit the restaurant and what dishes we looked forward to trying. The restaurant serves brunch on Sundays, and once I turn 21, we might have to start making weekly trips up Red Mountain to enjoy Lulu’s mimosas and freshly made crepes.